


Wanker

by venturahighway



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other, Porn With Plot, Vanilla, its not really that much plot its just exposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 15:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venturahighway/pseuds/venturahighway
Summary: Hoxton calls you a wanker and you are one.





	Wanker

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is a getaway driver for the Payday crew ala Twitch, reader has a dick but doesn't necessarily have to be male, I tried to keep the wording pretty gender neutral!

You never would've imagined that speeding nearly 110 mph with him by your side literally splattered with blood and screaming profanities at you you'd end the night camping out in your van behind the safehouse, thinking of him and shamefully indulging in a wank.

 -

You've been working as a getaway driver for the Payday crew for a few months now, more than prolific on the streets and reclusive enough that your life and relationships really wouldn't take much of a hit with you getting involved with one of the greatest and most infamous criminal gangs of all. You'd seen them on TV plenty of times before, in awe of their sheer bravado and expertise. Sure, you knew you admired them, but developing a massive crush on the snarkiest one came as a huge surprise.

He went by the name Hoxton and always seemed especially on edge, it took a hair trigger to set him off into cussing anyone out. However, you knew he wasn't without his reasons; they never told you directly, but from bits and pieces that you gathered, he had been in prison for two years and terrible things had happened to him, leading to a somewhat justified bitterness and paranoia within him. You didn't know exactly how he got it, but half of his face was gnarled with burn scars, and you could only imagine the pain he endured, both physical and emotional.

From the start, you were sympathetic to his suffering, and perhaps it showed when you interacted with him; you knew he didn't want to be patronized, but at the same time it was obvious he wanted to feel like somebody cared, so you tried to be pleasant and helpful to him in particular whenever you could. In response, you noticed that he swore at you considerably less often than he did with others, being much more mellow and at times even friendly, offering to grab a beer for you a couple of times when you got safely home. Being able to see the soft and warm side of such an aggressive criminal badass was a laser targeted attack on your heart, and over time you found yourself sneaking glances at him every now and then during the car rides, trying your best to not linger too long so you could your eyes on the road, ensuring a safe and smooth trip home as you always did.

 -

Today things had been a bit different though. You weren't the first getaway driver contacted, but something went wrong and whoever they initially sent apparently lost control of the car as the gang was swarmed by cops and Bain needed you as a replacement immediately. It was almost 1 AM (they had hit up a nightclub or something? How much money could a place like that have?) and you tried to get there as quickly as you could, but by the time you did, things were absolutely chaotic with money bags torn open and dollar bills flying through the air over the piles of cop bodies in the street.

"I'm here!" You screamed into the headset, and soon the familiar masks of Dallas, Chains, Wolf, and Hoxton came into your vision as you watched them sprint for your van, clinging tightly to whatever remaining loot they could carry as the deafening sound of gunfire burst all around you.

Hoxton came first, jumping into the passenger seat beside you, and you could see his suit was torn in several places and spattered with blood. (As extremely embarrassing and inappropriate as you knew it was, you immediately felt a bit aroused seeing the small stretches of skin you of course had never seen before, but you blocked this thought out, the man is hurt, for God's sake!) After you made sure the other members had piled in, you slammed on the gas.

"Fucking floor it!" Hoxton screamed, painfully directly in your ear, as a bullet suddenly shattered the driver's side window. Your foot was already pressed all the way down, but he kept glancing back and forth and all around, clearly incredibly anxious.

"Faster, you fucking wanker, the fucking cops are gaining on us!" He grabbed your shoulder hard and you could feel him shaking almost violently.

"I'm going, I'm going! Jeez, you know, that isn't helping much!" You shouted back as his grip got tighter, jerking your head towards his hand.

"Oh, this hurts, does it? It'll hurt a hell of a lot more if you get us all bloody shot! Up another gear!"

You grit your teeth through his death grip on your shoulder and the long string of obscenities that filled the space of the car for nearly the entire ride, focusing on maneuvering through the streets at a speed that shouldn't have been physically possible until you were definitely in the clear.

Once all the cops were miles away, Hoxton relaxed significantly, finally loosening his grip and letting go of you. You drove slowly through the streets as to not arouse suspicion, doing your best to blend in. The men in the backseat had been chattering together about some baseball game for a while now, probably also doing whatever they could to drown out the "wanker wanker bloody wanker", and after a bit, Hoxton cleared his throat and brought his hand back to your shoulder, massaging it gently to your great surprise (and pleasure).

"Sorry about your shoulder, mate. I was just... We haven't had an incident like that in years, and for a second there I had a bit of a uh... what's it called when you swear you've been there before? Well, anyway, it reminded me of when I first got taken in and..." He inhaled sharply, shaking his head.

You glanced towards him. He had removed his mask a while ago and you could see how sweaty he was, partially from the action, but combined with the look on his face, you could tell he was concentrating all his effort into coming down from some type of panic attack. Catching your eye, he smiled just a bit as if to reassure you.

"Well, I never should've doubted you, eh?" He said, patting you as carefully as he could on your certainly bruised shoulder. You smiled back silently, making sure to turn away so he couldn't see how red you knew you were getting.

- 

By the time you got to the safehouse it was nearly 4 AM and you knew you were just going to crash there and try to get as much sleep as you could possibly squeeze in. Although it was called the safehouse, there weren't really a lot of choice places to sleep, mostly just the couches. You laid down on the living room sofa with a heavy sigh, almost immediately drifting into sleep after such a stressful ordeal when you heard a quiet "aw, bollocks".

Blinking your eyes open, you turned and saw Hoxton standing in the doorway, a tear near the bottom of his slacks snagged on something, ripping even more.

"Fuckin 'ell." He muttered, putting a hand to his belt buckle and swiftly removing his pants. The man had no shame. You couldn't help but get an eyeful of his lean muscled and surprisingly tan legs, but more notably, dark red boxers with pink hearts. Holy shit.

"Oi, you don't know how to sew up a hole, do ya?" He called out to you, waving his hand.

"Uh... no, sorry." You said, truly apologetic, tearing your gaze away from those ridiculous novelty boxers.

"Fuck. These were some nice trousers too." He grumbled, balling them up and tossing them to the side, a problem for later. He pulled off his jacket, carefully inspecting it for irreparable damage, and seeming to be satisfied, gingerly folded it up and placed it on the coffee table.

You watched as he put his hands up to his throat, beginning to undo the knot of his tie, when he suddenly stopped.

"Can I help you?" He furrowed his brow at you. You blinked again, suddenly aware of how obvious your ogling must've been. 

"Oh! I... I was... actually wondering if you wanted the couch for the night." You stuttered, nodding vigorously as if to convince yourself how brilliant that recovery was.

"Wot?" "I mean, look at you, you're all scraped up, you lost your pants... Uh, seriously, I think you need it more than I do. I can sleep in the van tonight." You said, standing up. He raised an eyebrow at you, but nodded. The logic did make sense, you supposed.

"If it's fine by you, it's fine by me. Thanks, mate." He shrugged, flopping down on the sofa.

"Huh. You're so warm." He said absentmindedly, shifting where you had been laying. You felt yourself get a little warmer at the comment and chose to say nothing.

 -

Walking out to the van, you were glad it was an early fall night; a bit too cold to be outside, with the AC off in the van, it would be just right. You opened the side door and laid down on the seats. You won't lie to yourself, it is not comfortable.

After tossing and turning for about thirty minutes, as tired as you were, you decided this wasn't really going to work. Staring up at the car ceiling, you hazily remembered Hoxton's heart boxers and you had to laugh a bit. Of all people to wear some shit like that.

The boxers themselves didn't particularly arouse you, but thinking about him did. You couldn't help imagining, there was no way he slept with a dress shirt and tie on, he must've taken them off, yes, he was going to, and you could picture his slender hands loosening that tie, opening his shirt just a little...

Well, fuck it. Jerking off always helps people sleep, right? Although the Hoxton of your fantasy took off most of his clothes to sleep, you curiously forgot to, which you dully noted was probably part of why you were so uncomfortable. Sitting up and stripping off your shirt and pants, you decided not to beat around the bush, going straight to beating off instead, putting your hand inside your boxers and pumping your cock. Maybe some other time you'd take it slow and enjoy yourself a bit more, but this time you were on a mission, jerking harder, concentrating on thinking of his long hands, maybe even with those gloves on, maybe that would be hot...

Focusing so hard you didn't hear the footsteps or the car door opening slowly.

"Huh. I know I called you a wanker, but ya didn't have to take it so seriously."

Your eyes shot open and there he was. You were right, Hoxton was shirtless, standing outside in his boxers and a pair of house slippers, one of the few things he left at the safehouse. (You quickly note that, strangely, his hair is still tied back, who sleeps like that?) He looked quite tired in the face but at the same time there was a definite leery glint in his eyes.

You feel your face burn like fire. "Why did you- I didn't mean to, um- This isn't-"

He chuckled, stepping into the van and shutting the door behind him. "Come on, gimme a break. I can see clear as day you've got your dick in a fuckin' vice grip, what else could you be up to, eh?"

You realize faintly that he's right, despite your panic you are still extremely exposed with precum leaking all over your fingers, apparently freezing up rather than having the sense to cover yourself. You don't have much time to attempt to show a bit more modesty, though, as he suddenly leaned directly over you, extremely imposing (but also, you admit, extremely hot). You glance up into his face, kind of turned on but mostly incredibly baffled, what the _fuck_ is he doing?

"You gonna ask me to give you a hand?" He murmurs. You feel your face get even hotter and your cock twitches in your hand. Did you hear that right?

You search his face and notice, with shock and increasing arousal, that he also looks a bit flushed, his dark eyes hooded as he peers back at you from under his eyelashes, his skin practically glowing with a very slight warm sheen.

"A-ask you?" You choke out, registering his words. Jesus, even if he wants this too, what a pompous way to put it.

He blinks and straightens his back a bit, pulling away from you. "Mate, you were eyefucking me in the commons. Don't tell me it's not me you're thinking of." He smiles slightly. "But, well, if my instincts are wrong, I could just leave you to wank alone..."

"No! No, uh... I..." Your heart hammers in your chest. "If you're offering, I'll take it." You manage lamely.

He grins and leans forward again, still hovering over you a bit, and gently takes your chin in his hand and tilting it upwards, inspecting you. "You're a lucky guy. I'm feeling charitable." He says in a low voice before leaning forward and taking you in a surprisingly tender kiss.

You close your eyes, savoring the sweet gentility before suddenly jumping as you feel his cold hand on your cock. "Oh my god." You sputter, but he quickly pulls you back into this kiss before you can say anything else, using his other hand to pull off your boxers. Trying to shake off your initial confusion and just let full arousal take over, you put your arms around him, aware of how cold his entire body is. How long was he standing out there?

You run your hands over his back, both trying to warm him up and stimulate him, as you feel his tongue pressing into your mouth and meeting yours. Good, at least that part of him is warm.

You had brought yourself quite close earlier since you were just trying to cum so you could go right to sleep, and now you were getting too close too quickly as he smoothly worked his hand around you, his cold touch making you all the more sensitive.

"Ah, I'm actually really close-" He takes this as a signal to move faster and your leg jerks. "O-oh, no, actually-" You have to put your hands on his chest and push him off a bit and he looks back at you, puzzled.

"I actually wanted to... slow down and enjoy this more, like, with you." You say, hoping he understands generally what you mean. His eyebrows raise slightly as he smiles at you.

"Sure, I won't complain about that." He says, wriggling out of his boxers. Christ, this guy wastes no time at all. Returning the favor, you wrap your hand around his cock and he sighs pleasingly in response.

"Hey, uh, why did you come out here anyway?" You ask, stroking slowly, because you truly have no idea how this is happening. 

"Rough day, couldn't sleep. Bit presumptuous of me, maybe, but I guess I figured you probably weren't sleeping either. Not that I thought you'd be doing THIS." He smirks, leaning back and staring down at you again.

"For the record, I really was just trying to get to sleep at first. You know how it is. Serotonin..." You mutter, but he only laughs.

"Well, like I said, I'm not complaining. Never say I'm not a good Samaritan! I like you, so why not lend you a hand, eh?" He winked playfully. It's adorable.

You smile back, rubbing your finger against his head, watching his face as he closes his eyes and parts his lips slightly, breathing deeper. You feel amazing knowing that whatever you're doing is definitely working for him. You lean forward for another kiss, although when you do you accidentally touch your cock to his and the feeling sends a jolt through your spine. He moans quietly into your mouth before putting his hand over yours, stroking the two of you together. The slickness of both of your sweat and precum is incredible.

You put your arms around his neck, shivering at the feeling. It's crazy, it's electric, you feel like your entire body is vibrating. He carefully leans you back into the seat so that you are laying down with him hovering above, his thighs on either side of yours, one hand quickly bringing the two of you closer to release, the other pressed up against the wall above you. 

"Cum with me." He says raggedly, his breath hot against your cheek. You nod back, eyes closed, practically unable to speak as you feel any possible thoughts being pushed out of your head as you feel his hand moving faster and faster around the smooth, velvety skin of his cock against yours.

It all happens so fast and at once as your breath quickens and you feel a heat, an ache, a deep pleasure, something indescribable rush through your body. You hear him groan as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, shaking, shaking as you are too, and suddenly you explode, cumming hard against his stomach as you gasp, arching your back to press against him as you feel him follow closely behind, moaning into your ear as hot ejaculate pools between you both.

A buzzing haze follows as he continues pumping weakly, squeezing the last out of you and you grit your teeth. The feeling is overwhelming, nearly painful, but definitely enjoyable.

Finally he stops, sighing against your neck and slinging his arm across your body. You slowly blink your eyes open, noticing pinkish orange ribbons of light entering through the window, and realize it must be sunrise already.

"Hox." "Hmm." "Sun's up." He lifts his head and glances out the window above you.

"So it is." He peers back down at you with a lazy grin. The light against his face makes him look as though he's glowing, and you can't resist but to sit up and give him another quick kiss, which he returns.

"Hey, for future reference, you ever heard of a thing called knocking?" You mention. He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you and grinning widely. "Fuckin' wanker."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming to my self indulgent Hoxton fic, I wanted to try writing something "x Reader" and have hopefully done okay! I think it would not be hard to substitute the reader here for an OC or even another Payday member in an AU or something if you like to think of it that way, sometimes reader fics can feel a bit too personal for me haha
> 
> Comments/suggestions are always welcome, I do not consider myself a writer by any means, I am literally only driven by Hoxton thirst and I always need more content so I took up making it myself!


End file.
